A long time ago, I blogged about how Evan hadn’t earned a nickname yet. That has changed. She’s now more than 10 months old, yet weighs 14 pounds and comfortably wears 3-6 month clothing. As with most preemies, she’s tiny for her age. She gets around fine. She crawls, pulls up, walks alongside furniture… she’s just “tiny bitty” as Brady would say. She’s just plain little.

Now, see her hair? Now you know why we call her Chicken Little.

 See the resemblance?

(It’s kind of hard to see, but her hair is standing on end. Plus, the flash really surprised her.) So, maybe it’s difficult to see, but trust me… The name suits her.

Like many moms, I’m sure, I rarely get a moment of privacy. Ever. Andy and Brady are getting better about respecting private restroom time, but Connor has not caught on.

Ever since he first started showing an interest in potty training (months and months ago), we’ve been sure to up the excitement for a job well done anytime anyone goes successfully. It’s certainly got him all excited about the event.

I’m sure you see where this is going… Now, every time I tend to my needs, he pushes the bathroom door open, claps his hands and cheers loudly, “YEAH, Mommy! You did it!! You potty in da toiwet!! Yippee!”

Hey, I’m not to proud. I’ll take the encouragement where I can get it. After all, everyone’s good at something, right?

Recently, Brady has started this strange and annoying habit of only saying the first syllable of words. He doesn’t do it all the time, just when he’s in a silly mood. Whenever he does it, though, it’s irritating. He knows better. And for a boy growing up in the suburbs, it just sounds too hip-hop or ghetto or whatever you want to call it. It just doesn’t fit my three-year-old.

Just to give you an example, he and Connor were coloring the other day and he asked me, “Mommy, can I have another piece of pape?” Pape… Not paper. See how irksome it sounds?!

So, I’ve been on him to stop. He is doing better at catching himself. Yet, I hadn’t understood the urgency until snack time a few days ago. Andy and Connor were having some graham crackers and milk. Brady saw and wanted some, too. His request: “Mommy, can I have some crack?!”

Crack? This must stop. Now. I refuse to participate in a preschool drug-ring.

My brother-in-law just sent us this link. Gather your children around and watch this hilarious bird. You won’t believe it!

A few years ago, when Andy had just turned three and Brady was not quite two, I actually had a good idea. Since it was Christmastime and the boys were also learning their shapes, I got smart and labeled their gifts like this:

I knew that Andy, being older, would assume ALL the presents were for him unless immediately told otherwise. Instead of trying to keep all the gifts, these tags helped him to understand that some were for his little brother, too. He actually enjoyed sorting and sharing with Brady this way!

When Connor came along, he was assigned a triangle. Evan now gets a daisy-shaped flower. The older kids are old enough to read their own names now, but I still label gifts this way to alleviate confusion for the younger kids. I even use their shapes to label toys, hats, and more!

Anyone else out there have similar ideas? I love hearing tips for making life with lots of little ones easier. For other ideas, check out Works for Me Wednesday at Rocks in My Dryer.

Yesterday, we began mourning the loss of our dear friend, “Beezit.” Not the actual blanket(s). It’s still here, clutched in Connor’s hand — as usual. But yesterday, my snugly two-year-old started referring to his jersey knit friend as “bwanket” instead of the long-running “beezit.”

When he said it, it caught my breath. He’s growing up right before my eyes whether I like it or not. As much as I love the little stages of their lives, it’s also fun to watch them grow and learn new things. (Now you know why we’ll have a boatload of kids! We like all the stages!)

I really was a bit sad that he started pronouncing blanket properly. I might have even cried… but he quickly crawled up onto my lap and said, “Mommy, I nuggo you?” Ahhh…

Last night, the kids and I were headed to church (Nate was already there) and we were stopped at a stop light. Andy and Brady were asking questions about the turn arrows and colors, etc. We were sitting in the left turn lane and the straight lane next to us (on our right) changed from green to yellow.

Andy piped up behind me and said, “Mommy, can those cars see the stop light?”

I thought he was thinking of the movie Cars, so I said, “No, honey. Real cars can’t see. Only the people who drive them.”

Frustrated, he said, “Then why didn’t they slow down when the light turned yellow?! They all went faster!”

I giggled to myself. “Daddy wonders the same thing every day while he’s working.”

With four kids ages four and under and one on the way, I don’t have a lot of free time. But, since my parents asked to watch the boys this weekend, here’s what Nate and I did:

What can I say? We’re quick learners.

I had turkey on Thanksgiving. Some of you may not know that turkey is one of my all-time favorite foods. For the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, I drool in anticipation of all its yumminess. I’ll gladly give you my helpings of cranberry relish, stuffing and even pie for extra turkey. In fact, I think we need a holiday around March or so that uses turkey, too. Maybe we’ll start a new St. Patrick’s Day tradition around here…

I digress… Let me tell you what happened. The night before Thanksgiving, Andy got sick. Lots. He was fine later that night and was bouncing off the walls that morning. Nana and Poppy insisted it was fine — come on down anyway. Then, it hit me. I got sick. LOTS. Several times before we left the house. Yet, Nana and Poppy insisted it was fine — come on down anyway. (Have I mentioned they really love their grandkids?)

So, we went. Everyone but me had a great time. They all ate yummy food. They played with Uncle Chad. They sat on Poppy’s lap. I nearly froze to death. I could not get warm. I was chilled and nothing sounded good. I managed to swallow a few bites of salad. That was it. My parents had already planned on keeping the boys for a couple of nights, so Nate and Evan and I left early so I could get in my bed and melt sleep.

Evan was a great napper for me and I slept for about three hours after we got home. When I woke up, I felt much better and, though I didn’t feel like cooking, I did feel as though I should eat something. After all, I am growing a baby, you know. I talked to Nate (who was working his regular police duty on the road) and he said he’d scout the area restaurants and let me know what was open. Turns out, nothing was open. Nothing.

To make a really long story short, this is what he brought me home from Walgreens and what I ended up eating (a little bit of) on Thanksgiving night:

It’s just not the same. I should have brought leftovers home from my parents, huh?

Sharing is good, right?

What about when it’s an older sibling sharing with his younger one? Sweet, right?

Think again:

This is what Evan looked like after Brady decided to share an Oreo cookie with her (without asking Mommy, of course.)

We’ve since had a talk about the fact that some things aren’t good for babies, even when they’re soft or easily dissolvable. He now knows to ask Mommy before giving his baby sister anything. He tried. ;)